Myself, Brett, and his friend Ian were the assembled cast for the weekend's trip to Montreal, with Ian's girlfriend Holly's voice making various special appearances throughout. We went partly for fun, but also because they're trying to throw a wrestling show in the fall and wanted to scout the area and talk to the talent who were performing at another show. I'm a pretty big wrestling fan (or I was, I don't really watch anymore other than the 15-20 minutes I take FFing through each show), but these guys are over the top (hence, they're trying to throw their own wrestling card) and personally know all the talent somehow, which somehow lead to this exchange.
Ian: I wish Kyle would've been able to come out for the show.
Brett: It's too bad he killed his girlfriend. Have you gone to see him at all?
Ian: Yeah, I tried to visit him, but they transfered him to a mental facility.
Apparently, Kyle is (was?) a wrestler who murdered his girlfriend a year ago, and is now currently serving time. We always make jokes about stuff normal people don't make jokes about, so I thought they were kidding at first, but they were completely serious. And they did wind up making jokes about Kyle and the dead girlfriend. I'd put them here, but I would probably get arrested for indecency and end up in the mental facility with Kyle.
I don't remember much about the show because I had a good amount to drink and also because I wasn't really paying attention for most of it. It was being held at this sports bar, not an arena, and all the wrestlers there look about 15 years old (only one or two steroid monsters out of perhaps 20 who were on the show, which is shockingly low). But they worked hard for the crowd, which was really into it. It was alright I guess.
I was at the bar talking to this really Canadian girl there who was drunk and we talked about the match and how I drove up from the States to go to the event. Then out of nowhere she asked me if I had children and, because I'm a jerk and asking me that is like throwing Albert Pujols a softball over the plate, I responded "Yes, I have two daughters." and she was dumb as bricks (read: French-Canadian) and actually believed me and wanted to see pictures and I wanted to run with it, but I decided to tell her I was just kidding and then she thought I was weird. I should've realized my dumb jokes weren't gonna translate into Francais-Canadienne (Canadienne-Francais? I dunno what goes before what in that dumb language) because there are some in L'Etats-Unis d'Amerique who aren't amused when I'm kidding around. Even my own countrymen can't tell the difference anymore. I admit it's my fault at times. Sometimes I don't read the situation or person well. Actually, all the time. And it bears repeating: Sarcasm isn't universal. Or as the French would say "Zarcazzzamm eeeezzent univerrrrrrrrrrrrsallll! Hoh Hoh Hoh!"
After the show ended and they got done talking to different people for their show, we spent the next two hours driving around Montreal, looking for the casino. We found it, and then we spent the next half hour looking for the tables because the place is like a maze of slot machines. After asking around ("This might sound dumb, but do you have blackjack tables in this casino?") We found a $25 blackjack table with a dealer who looked like Lord of the Rings director Peter Jackson. Brett started off slow, but heated up and was off to the races. Ian stumbled around looking for food. I called it quits after two shoes at the table because I was getting massacred. I took a beating early from that hobbit motherfucker and never recovered. An absolutely terrible performance on my part.
Ian and I left Brett to his devices and we spent the next half hour looking for the car in the garage, because we didn't bother double checking what deck we parked in. When we found it, we spent the next hour or so waiting for Brett to come back, who had spent a half hour looking for the car because both of us fell asleep and didn't answer his calls. Then Brett and I spent the next two hours looking for a hotel room while Ian slept in the trunk. I'd tell the story of how that happened, but I don't know it because I was asleep. I wish I did because I'm sure it's a laugh. Holly's response best summarizes it: "What the hell is he doing in the trunk? Tell him to get out!"
All the hotels were booked for Le Tour de Montreal, which was starting that week or something, so we had a really tough time, but eventually we found one. So we checked into our room and turned on the TV to some nice girl on girl action (one was giving the other a rimjob, for those of you scoring at home) and it dawned on us that this wasn't a hotel that people used for sleeping. Brett called the bed, and we were like "good fucking luck with that one." I moved the two chairs by the window together as a makeshift bed, and suddenly the two of them were all "Oh shit!" and started laughing. A red thong was lying on the ground where one chair was. We told the manager, who got us a new room and threw in a free cot. We turned on the TV again in the new room, this time to two girls and a guy going at it. No underwear this time, but when we woke up and got ready to leave, while rummaging through the drawers, Ian found cocaine in the drawer. I wanted to check the other rooms to see if there were any dead bodies lying around, but we decided to just hit the road.
We drove around the city for awhile in the morning and tried to hit up some touristy places, but it was raining hard and all the lines were too long, so we headed home. There was tons of traffic once we got out of the sticks and I missed the train I needed to take, so I ended up getting home at 2 in the morning on Sunday (Monday?). I walked into my apartment, unloaded my stuff and realized my phone was gone. I used Manny's phone to contact Brett, who found my phone in the passenger's seat and will hopefully get it back to me in a timely fashion. This whole trip was about getting lost and finding things. And French-Canadians.
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